Kitzi's Tale (Also known as "Seventeen Years Ago")
by Nilramiel
Summary: Rosie/Sam Seventeen years after the War of the Ring. An expansion on the Epilogue in History of Middle-Earth 10 -
1. Chapter 1 - Tooth Planting

[pic]Seventeen Years Ago aka Kitzi's Tale  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, March 1436  
  
Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story is an expansion on the Epilogue in The History of Middle-Earth, Chapter 10 – Sauron Defeated. This story is being written as a gift to divastar79 (love ya, Kitzarina!) One day in the future it may be incorporated into Sam's Tale. A long way into the future, that is… Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise.  
  
*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 1 – Tooth Planting  
  
*~*~*~*~  
  
"Dad! Dad!"  
  
Sam looked up from his reading, but he did not jump to his feet. He knew by the sound of the call that it was Pippin, his youngest son, and that the child was excited, not upset. He also knew that the boy was on his way to the study and would likely burst in any…  
  
Sure enough, almost before Sam had a chance to lay down his book, young Pippin Gamgee exploded into the room.  
  
"Dad! Dad! Look!" Pippin was still shouting when he stumbled to a stop next to his father's chair. "It's come out!"  
  
He opened his small (and somewhat grubby) fist then, and lying in the center was a tiny tooth, pearl white, with blood still clinging to one edge.  
  
"Aye!" said Sam, turning in his chair and giving his full attention to the precious object, "So it has!" He picked up the tooth and examined it closely, as if it were a gem of great price. "Ah, Pip-lad, this is a fine one, oh yes it is!"  
  
Pippin grinned, showing the bloody hole in the front of his mouth where the tooth had been not ten minutes before.  
  
"Will you plant it now, Dad, please?" He asked eagerly, slurring the 'please' just a little, as he was missing four teeth near the front of his mouth.  
  
"Oh, yes, right away," said Sam, standing up and handing the tooth back to Pippin. "It's best to plant 'em right away, and you're in luck, for we had a fine rain yesterday, and it's just the right time of year as well. Run and get your sisters – they'll be wantin' to watch – and I will get the magic soil!"  
  
Pippin scampered off, his treasure balled tightly in his small fist, and Sam went to the kitchen, chuckling.  
  
He found Rosie there, wiping Daisy's face with one hand while supporting a nursing Primrose with the other. Sam bent and kissed Primrose, then kissed Rosie just above his daughter's suckling mouth.  
  
She started. "Samwise Gamgee! Stop that teasing and help me out, here!" Her tone was chastising, but she was smiling, and as Sam took the damp cloth from her, he kissed her again, on the mouth this time and with deep tenderness.  
  
He then turned to Daisy, who had managed to get more of her porridge on her face than in her mouth, and mopped her freckled face deftly. Daisy, who was three years old and uncommonly messy, laughed happily throughout the operation.  
  
"What's Pippin so excited about?" Rosie asked, running a gentle hand through Primrose's curls. "I heard him thumping through the smail just before you came in."  
  
"Ah," said Sam, releasing Daisy at last and patting her behind as she ran off towards the garden, "He's lost that tooth t'last, and he wants me to plant it."  
  
Rosie smiled, understanding. "Oh! Well, for such an important event, Primsie and I will come out to the garden at once!"  
  
"Aye," said Sam, "An important event to be sure." He went then to the tallest cupboard, and reaching back to the rear of the top shelf, he drew forth a wooden box. It was inscribed with a "G," and long ago it had contained truly magical dust, and the silver seed of a mallorn tree, but now it contained ordinary dry soil, and something else, tucked into the corner beneath the dirt.  
  
Sam took the box, and Rosie's free hand, and went out to the garden. There he found gathered six of his nine children. Primrose was, of course, in Rosie's arms, tucked into the nursing sling and still eating halfheartedly, though she kept swiveling her head to see what was going on. Frodo and Merry, who were thirteen and nine, respectively, had gone early that morning to the Cottons' to play with their cousins. Sam knew that Merry would be disappointed to have missed this event, but Frodo was "too old" to appreciate it and would soon convince Merry of the same. Ellie and Rosie- lass were also in the know, but they still loved to watch, and were here now. Elanor was holding Daisy on her lap. Goldilocks and young Hamfast stood near with eager faces.  
  
"Is this the spot, then?" Sam asked Pippin, who was sitting on the ground with his closed fist in his lap.  
  
"Yep! Right here!" The lad pointed with his other hand to a place near the stone fence, where he had already created a small hole.  
  
"Alright, then, give me some room." Ellie, Rosie, Goldie, Ham, and Daisy all scooted back a couple of paces, and Sam sat next to Pippin on the other side of the fresh opening in the earth.  
  
"Now you young'un's know," said Sam, displaying the small wooden box, "that this here box is straight from the Lady Galadriel herself, and that tha soil inside it is pure magic!" He looked from one child to the other, his eyes wide and round, slipping a wink to Ellie and Rosie-lass as his eyes reached them.  
  
The younger children stared wide-eyed at the box and nodded their curly heads solemnly.  
  
Sam turned to Pippin. "Lad? Give me the tooth." Pippin held out the small object, and once again Sam examined it closely, for the benefit of the onlookers. "Ah, yes, a fine one, Pip-lad. It should grow beautiful."  
  
At that, he turned and placed the tooth into the small hole that Pippin had dug next to the fence. Then with great drama, he slowly opened the Lady's box and showed the contents to the children. Goldilocks gave a little gasp of wonder, and Rose had to stifle a giggle against Primsie's blanket.  
  
Slowly Sam placed his thumb and forefinger into the soil, and stirred it slightly, as if he was feeling the magic with his calloused fingers. After a moment, he withdrew a thick pinch of the soil, and reverently placed into the hole on top of the tooth.  
  
What the younger Gamgees did not know was that beneath the (quite ordinary) dry soil in the box, tucked into a corner, were some tiny white seeds. These seeds originally came from one of many packets of seeds sent to Sam and Rosie as a wedding gift by Legolas, and no seed like them could be found west of the Misty Mountains. Sam's thick but practiced fingers sought out one of these seeds and he picked it up concealed within the pinch of dirt.  
  
"Ok, Pip, fill in the hole, quick-like, afore the magic escapes!" Sam said urgently to the lad, who swiftly scooped the earth back into the hole while Sam placed the wooden lid snugly back onto the precious box and dropped it into his shirt pocket.  
  
Now Sam laid down and placed his ear against the damp soil, closing his eyes and drawing his brows together as if he was listening intently. Pippin laid his small head down close to his father's, and their curls mingled together, nearly identical in color. He too pinched his eyes shut and listened, although to be sure he heard nothing more (nor less) than Sam did. The children held their breaths, and for a few heartbeats the only sound that could be heard was Primrose's soft cooing. She had finished her meal and was now wiggling against her mother's shoulder.  
  
Then suddenly Sam sat up and brushed off his hands. "Oh, yes," he said, nodding and smiling at Pippin (who had also sat up and brushed off his hands), "This one is going to be a beauty! The magic is strong and the soil is right."  
  
"As nice as Merry's, Dad?" asked Pippin, pointing to where, a short distance away, a fine beautiful plant was growing. It was not tall, but had soft, velvety leaves and dainty snow white flowers with petals shaped very much like a hobbit's tooth.  
  
"Oh, yes, every bit as nice, I think," Sam assured him, tousling the lad's hair before standing up. In a week or two it should start peepin' up out of the soil. It's the perfect time of year for growing tooth-flowers!"  
  
Sam captured Rose's hand again and grinned at her before going back through the garden and into Bag End.  
  
"Oh, Sam," Rose said, once they were out of the children's earshot, "How they love your 'tooth planting!' I believe every one of them loves it as much as Elanor did when she was a wee one."  
  
Sam chuckled, "Ellie still loves it; she just knows the truth now."  
  
"Well, I think it is a wonderful game, love." She said, turning and kissing his shoulder, "although at the rate our young'uns are losing teeth, the flowers will soon take over the garden."  
  
"Aw, they won't," Sam assured her, as they reentered the smial and closed the round door, "They only flower the one year, after all, then they never do come back, unless you let the seeds lie, and I am careful to gather every seed for my secret box."  
  
Rosie laid Primrose (who was quite ready to be put down) on a blanket and turned, looping her arms around Sam's neck.  
  
"I love you, Samwise Gamgee," she said, pulling him close and kissing him.  
  
"Aye," said Sam, after several minutes of tenderness, "And perhaps I should check Goldie's mouth for loose teeth!" 


	2. Chapter 2 - Seventeen Years Ago

1.1 Kitzi's Tale  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, March 1436  
  
Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. This story is an expansion on the Epilogue in The History of Middle-Earth, Chapter 10 – Sauron Defeated. This story is being written as a gift to divastar79 and is incomplete. One day in the future it may be incorporated into Sam's Tale. A long way into the future, that is… Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise.  
  
*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 2  
  
*~*~*~*~  
  
On the twenty-fifth of the month, the stars were shining in a clear dark sky. It was the second day of a bright and cloudless spell that came every year to the Shire towards the end of March, and was every year welcomed and praised as something surprising for the season. Sam, however, was not surprised. He knew what this day signified, and that all of Middle-earth was glad at this time of the year, for a great evil had departed from the world.  
  
He was standing in the doorway of Bag End, looking out on the cool world, and thinking. All of the children were in bed, and the only sound that could be heard within the smail was the sound of Rosie, moving about the kitchen. It was late, but here and there lights were still glimmering in Hobbiton, and in houses dotted about the night-folded countryside.  
  
Sam sighed, looking far away eastward. The years had slipped by so quickly. Elanor had fifteen summers now, today in fact, and it seemed only yesterday that she was lying in her cradle same as little Primrose was tonight.  
  
Such beautiful children they were, all of 'em, and Sam gave Rosie credit for that, though the credit was half his regardless. They tussled and fussed like any hobbit children, but they were unusually gracious and fair. Everyone said so, and Sam was as proud of them as a hobbit could be.  
  
"Sam?"'  
  
Sam turned to find his wife standing nigh, and he drew Mistress Rose to him, setting his arms about her. He hugged her close, loving the feel of her soft body against his, even more so after all of these years. Turning his head, he kissed her in front of the ear. She smiled and returned his kiss, lingering against his mouth for a long moment, then nestling her head against his broad shoulder.  
  
"March the twenty-fifth!" he said. "This day seventeen years ago, Rose wife, I didn't think I should ever see thee again. But I kept on hoping."  
  
"I never hoped at all, Sam," she said, lifting her head and kissing his jaw, "not until that very day; and then suddenly I did. About noon it was, and I felt so glad that I began singing. And mother said: 'Quiet, lass! There's ruffians about.' And I said, 'Let them come! Their time will soon be over. Sam's coming back.' And all those months between my Mum kept saying 'Don't get your hopes up, Rosie-lass. We don't even know where he's gone, nor Mr. Frodo neither, and there's no sense hoping and hoping for something as unlikely as that.'" Rosie grinned, laying her head again on his shoulder. "But you came."  
  
Sam laughed. "That I did," he said, "To the most belovedest place in all the world. To my Rose and my garden. And to my young ones, though I didn't know about them then."  
  
Rosie sighed, loving the feel of his laugh against her cheek, and placed her hand upon the middle of his chest, feeling the proof of his strong heart against her palm.  
  
"Sam, how old is Primrose?"  
  
"Eh?" Sam was surprised. "Why what an odd question, love. You know how old she is, same as I do. She's eight months now, and already crawling about the smial."  
  
"Aye," said Rosie, smiling against him, "and all of our children born two years apart…"  
  
"…Except for little Ham," he finished for her with a chuckle. "He just had to sneak in there between Goldie-lass and Daisy."  
  
"Aye," said Rosie again, "and I am thinking that we have one too many girls, or one too few boys, if you follow me."  
  
Sam stroked her hair. "Ah, Rosie, I love my little lasses, and my lads all. Wouldna matter to me if they were all one or t'other, so long as they are strong and glad."  
  
"I know, love," Rosie said, still smiling, "But I am thinking another little lad would be awfully nice to have around. Perhaps around harvest time?"  
  
She paused, waiting for him to register what she was trying to tell him. It didn't take long.  
  
Sam pulled her away from him and looked into her face, which wore an open smile, bright as the sunlight on Dimril Dale.  
  
"Oh, Rose, you don't mean? Are ye? Are we going to?"  
  
Rosie laughed and kissed him.  
  
"Yes, Sam," she said, "I am, and we are. Come harvest time, I think."  
  
Sam pulled her close, kissing her hair, then brought his hand to rest on her abdomen. "Ah, I'm so glad!" he cried, "But how do ye know it's a lad, Rose?"  
  
"I don't. It's just a feeling," she replied. A sense of it. I was right about the others, wasn't I? Except for Elanor, but I think that was because she was first."  
  
"And Pippin," Sam reminded her. "You thought he was to be a lass, right up until the end."  
  
"So I did," she said, "But only because you convinced me that Mr. Frodo was a prophet." She pinched him.  
  
"Mostly he was, I think," Sam replied, both serious and still jesting. "Leastwise about most of the children, and about some other things besides. One thing in particular."  
  
"What's that?" asked Rosie, lifting his hand from her belly and kissing the rough palm, although she knew.  
  
Sam looked towards the horizon and spoke softly. "He said to me 'You will be the Mayor, and the most famous gardener in history' and he said 'You will read things from the Red Book, and remind people of the past age' and all of those things have come true" Sam mused, "and he said I would be as busy and happy as anyone can be." He looked back at his wife, who was looking at him with great love, and as if she had not heard these words before (although she had, many times).  
  
She lifted her hand, wiping tears from his cheeks that he did not know had fallen. "And are ye, love?" she asked him, knowing the answer but asking anyway.  
  
"I am, Rose," he said, "as busy and as happy as a hobbit ever was. And now another little one! I could burst for joy! But we shall see, shan't we? And if it is a lass, I aim to name her Ruby."  
  
"Why Ruby?" Rosie asked, looking at him with surprise. "There's no Ruby in your family or mine, nor in Mr. Frodo's family. Is it a Took name, or a Brandybuck name?"  
  
"Nay," Sam said. "It's not after anyone. I've another reason for wanting Ruby."  
  
"What reason?" she asked him.  
  
"Well, when Gandalf and Mr. Frodo left over the sea, one of the eye-openers was that Gandalf had a ring. One of the three elven rings, you know?"  
  
"I remember," Rosie said encouragingly.  
  
"Well, his ring was called Narya. It was the fire ring. And it was gold, with a Ruby stone – blood red, and bright as a dragon's eye. And it was then that I finally understood why Gandalf had always been so interested in the Shire, an' in hobbits, an' in the One Ring."  
  
Rosie nodded. She had never heard Sam speak of this, although he had told her about and described the rings to her.  
  
"Well," continued Sam earnestly, "Gandalf was entrusted with the fire ring by Cirdan when he came ta Middle Earth. And the reason he was given it, according to what I have read and such, was to help him secretly in the war against the Dark Lord. But no one knew he had it, save the Lady Galadriel, and Lord Elrond. He did lots of good things with it, just as the elves did with theirs, but the elves mainly cared for their small lands – for Rivendell and for Lothlorien, whereas Gandalf cared for many places. He cared for the dwarves, and for some men, but especially for Hobbits. He told me so once, when we were in Gondor. 'Samwise,' he said to me, 'Hobbits are the best sort of people there are. I've always thought so, and you are one of the best of Hobbits.'"  
  
Sam blushed, realizing that he was quoting high praise towards himself from one of the Great, but Rosie smiled at him, and said "Go on."  
  
"Well, for many years, Gandalf was what kept our quiet Shire peaceful and free. Him and the Rangers, that is. And I'd like to honor him somehow. But I can't see naming a hobbit-lad Gandalf, or Mithrandir, or any of his other high-soundin' names. It just don't seem right. So I've been thinking on it, and I'd like to name our next lass Ruby – for the ruby stone in his elven ring."  
  
Sam stopped, searching Rosie's face to see what her thoughts were on this. As for Rosie, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Sam I think that is a perfectly lovely idea! Ruby is a beautiful name, and if this one is a lass, or if we have another lass, then Ruby shall be her name!"  
  
They went in, and Sam shut the door. But even as he did so, he heard suddenly, deep and unstilled, the sigh and murmur of the Sea upon the shores of middle-earth. He paused, standing by the green door, and wondering if he had actually heard it, or if it was a memory buried in his mind. Then he shrugged, and followed his wife to the kitchen. He felt the need of a mug and a pipe. 


	3. Chapter 3 - The Gardener

1.1 Kitzi's Tale  
  
Author: Nilramiel@aol.com, aka RosieCotton  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Genre: General/Romance  
  
Setting: The Shire, March 1436  
  
Please do not copy or post this story to another website, or use it for your own purposes, without my permission and/or without these additional comments. Feel free to link away!  
  
Acknowledgements: The characters, setting, and much of the dialog belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I give full credit to him. Sam is my favorite character in Tolkien's work, and this is written with the deepest respect for both Tolkien and the noble Samwise.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 3: The Gardener  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Rosie looked at her husband with exasperation, and wondered, not for the first time, at how stubborn he could be.  
  
"I think you should hire one, Sam," she repeated, "not just for while we are away, but to stay on afterward." She was careful to keep her tone even, for she was not angry, only concerned for his well-being.  
  
Samwise looked at her. He had come home after a particularly long and trying day at the Mayor offices, and found Rosie busily packing clothes for the children. They were to leave in four days to meet the King, and Rose was not one to wait until the last minute to pack.  
  
He sighed.  
  
"It just don't seem right, Rose," he said, struggling to explain himself. "I mean, I'm a gardener. I've been taking care o' the Bag End gardens since I could walk. It just wouldn't be right to give it over to someone else. And besides, folk would say I was gettin' too high and mighty. 'Who's that Sam Gamgee think he is anyway, hiring a gardener when he can do the work just fine fer himself! Bein' mayor has made his head grow too large!' That's what folk will say." He ducked his head and studied his fingers. "It just don't seem right."  
  
Rosie placed several pairs of rolled stockings into the pack, then came over to sit beside him. She studied his profile for a long moment, taking note of the fine lines around his eyes and the furrows of worry wandering across his brow. She had perceived the strain telling on him nearly two years before, shortly after he was reelected as Mayor. The King Elessar had declared the Mayor, Thain, and Master the 3 Counsellors of the North- Kingdom, and since then Sam's responsibilities had seemed to increase dramatically. He worked long hours with Merry and Pippin (Master and Thain, respectively) to order, educate and build the Shire and the outlying areas. At the time of his reelection, the Gamgees had three children beneath four years of age, and Rosie was pregnant with Primrose. The children were their greatest joy, but they also required a great deal of time and attention, and Sam was a devoted father who would not shirk his time with them. Between his duties as mayor, his responsibilities of family, and caring for the Bag End gardens, Sam was stretched much too thin. Rosie had been telling him so for over a year.  
  
"Sam?" she asked gently, taking his hand in her own, "what does it matter what folk say? The children are too young to handle the garden on their own, though you have taught them a great deal, and you are too hard pressed now to care for it properly."  
  
She paused, slowly tracing each of his fingers with her own and searching her mind for the right words. She knew that this was more than a matter of idle gossip or reputation.  
  
By leaving Bag End and all of his wealth to Sam, Frodo had elevated Sam from one class into another. Sam's election, and reelection, to the mayorship was proof of that all on its own, and Sam was as gracious in his new role as he had ever been before. After all, being Mayor was a form of service as well as honor. Yet even after so many years, the adjustment was not complete. Sam had been raised to serve, not to be served, and the idea of taking someone for hire was a blow to his pride.  
  
"Aye," Sam sighed at last, "I am hard pressed, and tho I thought it would ease back after a bit, it hasn't. I think the children could do the gardening on their own, at least Ellie and Frodo and Rosie-lass could, but I don't want them to be doing it, Rose." At this, he looked up at her, and there was a different sort of pride in his eyes than Rose had expected to see.  
  
"Meaning no harm to my Gaffer's memory," Sam continued, "I have no regrets over my own raisin'. Not one, Rose. But somehow I think that Mr. Frodo would rather see our children running free over the Shire, like he and his cousins did when they were young, rather than bending their backs o'er the garden as I did." He sighed heavily and returned his gaze to his lap. "I know that he would, and so would I."  
  
"As would I," Rosie said tenderly, lifting his hand to her lips and kissing it. "All the more reason that you should hire a gardener. The children can still help, and learn the love of growing things, without being burdened overmuch."  
  
Sam said nothing.  
  
"There is another reason," Rosie continued, sensing that her words were reaching him, "another reason why you do not want to hire someone, that you have not said outright." She lifted one hand to his chin, and tipped it up so that she could look into his face.  
  
"You love to garden, Samwise Gamgee. You love it almost more than anything, and you can't bear the thought of giving it up."  
  
Tears suddenly brimmed in his eyes, and as he nodded, they spilled over the lids and onto Rosie's hand, which still cradled his chin.  
  
"Oh, Sam." Rosie took her husband into her arms and held him tightly, "You needn't give it up altogether. And the time will come again when you will be able to spend more time in the gardens again."  
  
Sam nodded against her neck, but did not reply. Rosie pressed him against herself and ran her hands up and down his broad back.  
  
"Sam," she asked gently, "When you were gardening for the Baggins' did you think ill of them, or resent their place over you?"  
  
Sam pulled back, looking at his wife in surprise. "Of course not!" he said, indignance coloring his tone. "It were a joy serving them. I took pride in it – I still do, even though they have both gone."  
  
"And do you think that Frodo or Bilbo ever thought low of you, or treated you as if you were less than they?"  
  
"Of course not," Sam said again, "They treated me as if I was family."  
  
"Well, see, now. It will be just the same for a lad that you hire." Rosie said logically.  
  
Sam chewed this thought slowly for a moment, then suddenly embraced his wife again.  
  
"Rose Gamgee, you are the sharpest lass in all The Shire, I do believe." He said affectionately. "You have made me see it in a whole new light. I am going to go straightaway and talk to Rudiger Boffin about gardening for us, starting right away."  
  
"Good," said Rosie, kissing him lightly and standing up. "Perhaps I can get this packing done, then!"  
  
~TBC~ 


End file.
